The Hawaiian Frame-Up
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: A sequel to the season 6 episode The Hawaiian Headache. After being called back to Hawaii to testify at Dutch Ingram's preliminary hearing, Jim is called upon by Dutch's wife to investigate a mysterious sniping at her husband, whom she insists is innocent of committing murder and was framed just as Jim was.
1. Chapter 1

**The Rockford Files**

**The Hawaiian Frame-Up**

**By Lucky_Ladybug**

**Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! This is a sequel to the season 6 episode **_**The Hawaiian Headache**_**, because I was not satisfied with the idea that Dutch Ingram was the murderer. It seemed rather shoehorned in there, particularly since it was only mentioned in passing in the epilogue and there was no proof of its truth. Also present are characters from season 4's episode **_**The Queen of Peru**_**, which is a certain in-joke and irony because both Dutch and Ginger were played by the same lovely person. There are a few references to a story I wrote called **_**The Warehouse on Wharf 33**_**, but it shouldn't have to be read for this to make sense. And because I love for characters from other series to make cameos, the **_**Hawaii 5-O**_** characters will play supporting roles as the obligatory police.**

**Chapter One**

Her husband was innocent.

That was what Lisa Ingram fully believed and would continue to believe.

At least, well, he was certainly innocent of murder. He wasn't any naïve, innocent child; he was a rather gleeful mercenary and made deals upon deals with multiple sets of people. Usually he profited from them quite handsomely. That was how he had become the self-proclaimed king of a certain stretch of Hawaiian beach.

But occasionally his deals backfired, and as far as he and Lisa were concerned, that was what had happened this time. The idiot American intelligence agent he had been doing business with had decided to send someone to complete a transaction who really didn't know what he was doing. Someone had framed that man for the murder of another American intelligence agent, and when he had been proven innocent, Dutch Ingram had been arrested instead.

It all made sense, the prosecutor had been insisting during the preliminary hearing. The American agent had learned of Dutch's double and even triple-dealing in the transaction and Dutch had either killed him or ordered him killed because of it. Some of Dutch's henchmen had backed up the story, relating incriminating things Dutch had said or mentioning that they saw him carrying a gun shortly before the estimated time of the agent's death.

But Dutch continued to proclaim his innocence and insisted that he was being framed as much as Jim Rockford had been. His lawyer was petitioning the judge to have the case thrown out of court for lack of evidence. There was no concrete proof of anything that was being said; almost everything was hearsay testimony.

The gun was the biggest concern. It had been Rockford's gun that Dutch had taken away from him. And the only fingerprints on it belonged to those two men and the agent who had given Rockford the gun. But Dutch had lain unconscious from a knockout blow in a fight with Rockford right after acquiring the gun. The two men who had restored Dutch to consciousness testified that the gun had not been on his person upon awakening, and Dutch insisted that anyone wearing gloves could have taken it from him. The prosecution suspected that Dutch had bribed his men into covering for him, but there was no proof of that.

And so, all in all Dutch had been confident that morning that the judge would see reason. He had smiled and embraced his wife, telling her that he would be going home today a free man.

She prayed it was true. Now as they sat, waiting in the courtroom for the judge to return and give his verdict, she was growing more nervous by the minute. And in spite of Dutch's confidence, she could tell that he was anxious as well. He was leaning back in his chair, his hands together with his thumbs under his chin and his forefingers against his lower lip. He was intently watching the bench, waiting to see the door open and the judge return.

She leaned forward, reaching over the gate separating the gallery from the defense table, and laid her well-manicured hand on his shoulder. "Dutch."

He glanced over, smiling as he covered her hand with his. "It will all be over soon now, Love," he said.

She tried to smile, not wanting to be a dissenting voice and remind him that the judge might rule against him. Instead she focused on the feel of his hand. It was soft; he was not a manual worker or a fighter. He strategized and planned and oversaw everything about his little schemes, but it was mainly his workers who carried them out.

And now some of those workers were betraying him. It amazed and stunned Lisa, how so many of them were helping the prosecution with its case. They weren't simply testifying as they were required by law to do—they had voluntarily offered information, seeming to want to see Dutch put away or executed. Any one of them could have committed the murder. Or perhaps they were all in on it together, like in that old book _Murder on the Orient Express._

She couldn't think about that for too long or she would become very upset. Dutch had trusted them with his business deals and had paid them well for all their troubles, and instead of gratitude, they were completely turning against him. Dutch might manipulate things to get the most money he could in every case, but he didn't outright lie and he didn't kill or try to frame people, either.

She looked across the gallery to where a restless Jim Rockford was sitting. He, of course, believed Dutch was guilty, not only for the murder, but also for trying to frame him for it. The prosecution had sent for him as a witness, and though he had not come willingly and had only testified to facts and not opinions, he had certainly added to Dutch's problems with his testimony. Now he was shifting all about and glancing at his watch. He wanted to be somewhere, anywhere else.

Dutch didn't like him any more than he liked Dutch. Dutch still couldn't understand why the Army commander had recruited Rockford to help out with their little deal. Lisa had idly done a bit of research on him and had learned that he was a private investigator in Los Angeles. He seemed to be quite good, too. But it _was_ hard to picture, after the way Dutch had described his handling of the secret mission.

Rockford's Army commander was there too, shooting evil-eyed looks at Dutch. He also believed in Dutch's guilt, probably far moreso than Rockford, since he had dealt with Dutch before. Dutch ignored him, but Lisa gave him a steady, haughty look and he scowled and turned away in disgust.

Members of the Hawaii 5-O taskforce had slipped into the courtroom at one point. Although they had not been directly involved with Dutch's arrest, they felt that the case against Dutch tied in with a case of their own. They were hoping to prove that Dutch was responsible for other murders, especially if he could be convicted of this one.

The return of the judge brought everyone to attention and they rose. The older, balding, and bespectacled man looked over the courtroom calmly and with a pokerface. He was awfully good at that, really, and Lisa wondered if he played.

"It is the decision of this court that the case against Dutch Ingram be dismissed for lack of evidence," he intoned. Dutch smiled knowingly and Lisa could not refrain from a joyous cheer.

"_What!"_ That was that pesky, loud-mouthed Army commander, of course. Lisa had never liked him.

The outburst prompted a flurry of whispered comments. Displeased, the judge pounded his gavel. "There will be order in this courtroom or you'll all be in contempt," he threatened.

Everyone quieted except that commander. "But Your Honor, Sir, he has to be guilty," he cried, pointing frantically at Dutch. "It's the only thing that makes sense. We all know what he is. Rockford here personally witnessed this slimeball in action!"

Rockford looked like he wanted to drop through the floor out of embarrassment.

"A lot of us are familiar with Mr. Ingram's . . . business practices," the judge replied, coolly. "They are distasteful. But that doesn't make him guilty of murder. The court's decision still stands. Now sit down, Sir!"

Glowering at his hated nemesis, the commander finally did as he was told. Dutch smirked at him.

The judge continued, "Mr. Ingram, you are free of the murder charge, but watch yourself. There are other charges that can and may be brought against you. Next case." He banged his gavel to signal the finality of his decision.

Dutch turned to face his wife and embraced her as she threw her arms around his neck in relief. "You're free, Darling," she said with fervency. "But they're probably going to charge you with a slew of other horrible things."

"And maybe some of those will be true," Dutch mused. "No matter; we can beat them like we've beat this." He kissed her. "Let's go, Love. I don't want to spend a moment longer in a courtroom than I have to."

Lisa was in firm agreement.

As they turned to leave, Dutch keeping an arm firmly around his wife's shoulders, they both felt everyone's eyes on them. But Dutch just tossed them a triumphant, cocky smile and strolled out of the room.

xxxx

The blonde woman stood at the bottom of the courthouse steps, sweeping her locks over her shoulder with an absent gesture as she spoke into her microphone.

"Aloha! This is Lana Allisen, coming to you live from the Hall of Justice. We're waiting for the entrance of local mercenary Dutch Ingram and his wife Lisa. For those who have just joined us, Mr. Ingram was recently arrested and charged with the murder of a CIA agent. The judge has just thrown the case out of court, citing lack of evidence. While this is no doubt a relief to the Ingrams, it's a source of consternation for the prosecutor, HPD, and 5-O, who believe that Mr. Ingram is most likely getting away with murder. Oh, here come the Ingrams now." She hurried up the steps, shoving her microphone at Dutch. "Mr. Ingram, how does it feel to be free again?"

Dutch smiled at her and moreso, the camera. "Why, it feels just dandy, Love," he said.

"Is it true that there are other charges pending against you?" Lana persisted. "Charges that include conspiracy and even treason?"

"Now you're exaggerating things a mite," Dutch said. "I haven't heard about any such charges. Have you, Lisa?"

"Not at all," Lisa said, shaking her head. In truth, however, she _had_ heard such rumors, and she prayed that any possible case for treason would never be built up enough to make it to court. She loved Dutch. She could not bear for him to be released on the murder charge only to be convicted of something that might have consequences just as grave.

"There now, you see?" Dutch smiled at the camera again. "It's all a lot of bleedin' rubbish put out by my enemies. I have an awful lot of them, you know."

The sudden shot that zipped past Dutch to take a chink out of the courthouse's brick wall created instant mass panic. The witnesses and curious bystanders screamed, scattering. Lisa screamed too, throwing her arms around her husband and trying to drag him to the landing in case more ammunition followed.

Steve McGarrett dashed past them, yelling to the other members of his squad. "There's a sniper on the roof across the street! Spread out and keep him from getting out of the building!"

Lisa sobbed, clutching Dutch close to her and suddenly feeling his blood on her hand. In horror she looked up, only to find him curiously touching his left cheek and studying the blood on his fingertips. His eyes narrowed.

"He tried to kill you!" Lisa wailed, digging into her purse for a handkerchief. "He bloody well tried to kill you!"

Dutch let her dab at the blood on his cheek, after he wiped his fingers on the cloth. "I knew they wouldn't stop with trying to get me convicted," he said darkly, looking to where the sniper had already fled. "Now that that's failed, they're trying more desperate measures. Well, they're going to regret it. I promise you that. I'll find out who it is before they can get away with one more thing against me."

"Will you, Dutch?" Lisa returned in anguish. "Or will _I_ have to find it out after you're _dead?_"

"Look." Dutch gripped Lisa's shoulders. "I've got no intentions of croaking. You know that, Lisa. I'm going to be alright. You have to believe that. Do you understand me?"

Lisa looked into his light-blue eyes and finally, slowly nodded. "Yes," she said quietly. "I understand that you believe you'll be alright. But your luck can't hold out forever."

"It'll hold out long enough," Dutch vowed. He looked to where the 5-O men were converging on the sniper's building. "Long enough."

xxxx

Jim fled the chaos at the courthouse as quickly and as silently as he possibly could, for several reasons. It had been agonizing enough to be subpoenaed and forced to fly out to Hawaii for the hearing. After his last experience in Hawaii, he had never wanted to return again. And most certainly he didn't want to return to revisit that disaster.

His old commander had mortified him with his display in court. He knew the man must have an earful for Jim after Dutch's release and Jim just plain didn't want to hear it. Visions of the man's plans to investigate Dutch and make sure he got convicted for something were spinning in Jim's mind. He did not want to be dragged into any more hair-brained schemes. He just wanted to pack up and leave Hawaii as swiftly as possible.

The latter, however, _wouldn't_ be possible. Rocky had been thrilled and overjoyed at any chance to return to Hawaii, and he was determined to have the vacation he and Jim had been tricked and cheated out of before. And Jim, of course, didn't have the heart to refuse him.

This new attack on Dutch could change a lot of people's plans, but Jim was not willing to let it change theirs. They would have their vacation this time, even if he had to stand up and tell his commander No.

He wasn't sure what he felt when the cab let him off at the hotel and he wandered inside only to see two familiar men registering at the desk. "Ginger? Lou?" he greeted.

It was Lou Trevino who was busy scribbling in the register. Ginger Townsend was waiting and leaning on the marble desk with one arm, looking fairly bored. At Jim's voice he turned, studying the private detective with emotionless ice-blue eyes.

Jim shook his head. If Ginger was more lively and mischievous, he would look eerily like Dutch Ingram. Dutch was the epitome of a cheeky Brit, colorful language and all. Ginger was most often aloof and cold, now and then dissolving into almost uncontrollable rage when something set off his deadly temper. He seemed fairly harmless at the moment, but that was the scary thing about Ginger—you never really knew what was going on behind those frosty eyes. Lou could sometimes keep him in line, but sometimes he could not, especially if someone harming him was the reason for Ginger's fury.

"What are you doing here, Rockford?" Ginger grunted.

Finished signing the register, Lou turned in surprise and confusion. "It really is a small world, like they say," he said.

Jim nodded. "I would have to agree with that. Of all the places you two could turn up, it would _have_ to be right here and right now."

"We've got a business conference," Lou supplied.

"Oh, so you're not just here to see Diamond Head and watch the hula dancers," Jim quipped. Although he somehow couldn't imagine Ginger taking much interest in either.

"It's work, Rockford, plain and simple," Ginger said. "I take it you're on vacation?"

"My father's hoping to be," Jim said. "Actually, I got called out to testify in some big court case." He scowled at the reminder and then thought of something. "Hey, you two had better watch it while you're here," he warned.

"What?" Lou blinked. "Why?"

"Because somebody just tried to murder the guy I came out to testify against," Jim said. "And you probably won't like me saying this, but if somebody didn't know what they were doing, they could mistake Ginger for him."

Lou's jaw dropped, while Ginger's interest had finally been piqued. "Are you serious, Rockford?" he frowned.

"Oh yeah." Jim headed past them to the elevator. "Turn on the news when you get settled. You can see for yourselves." He could feel them watching him as he got into the elevator and pressed the button for his floor, but he didn't stop and offer any further information.

He wasn't on what he would call friendly terms with the two former jewel thieves, but he supposed they had a certain respect for him after their paths had crossed while attempting to solve a mystery surrounding an attempt to kill Ginger. He hadn't seen them since the trial of the culprits. He had assumed they were doing fairly well and indeed, they seemed to be.

He hoped, for their sakes and his own sanity, that nothing would go wrong concerning them. If it did, considering they were all in the same hotel, he doubted he would be able to keep from becoming involved. And that was most certainly what he did not want right now.

When the elevator opened on the sixth floor, he got out and immediately headed for the suite he and Rocky were sharing. With a flick of the cardkey in its slot, the door opened and Jim entered the room.

Rocky, who was staring at the television set, looked up with a start. He smiled in happy relief to see Jim walking in. "Oh good, Son, you're safe!" he proclaimed. "They were just showing what happened out at the courthouse today."

Jim sighed. "Yeah, Dad, that was a real mess." He shut and locked the door and collapsed in a chair. "As soon as Ingram gets out of the hot seat, somebody tries to put him in a pine box their own way. And I'm caught right in the middle. You know it's not going to be long and old Colonel 'Howling Mad' Smith is gonna come barreling over, wanting to talk my ear off about getting Dutch put away and insisting I help him out with it."

"Oh, that reminds me!" Rocky exclaimed. "Somebody called and left you a message."

"Oh no," Jim groaned. "Was it the Colonel?"

"Nope. This was a woman. Actually, I think it was the wife of that Mr. Ingram character." Rocky placed a slip of paper into the disbelieving Jim's hands. "She told me her phone number and gave her name as Lisa Ingram."

Jim stared at the phone number. "That's his wife, alright," he frowned. "But what would she be calling me for?"

"I told her I'd give you the message and you'd call her as soon as you got in," Rocky inserted helpfully.

Jim glowered at the piece of paper. He really wanted to ignore it altogether. He had had enough of the Ingrams for a lifetime. But he supposed he would have to return her call. Rocky had already promised, and anyway, it could be important.

"I just hope the Colonel doesn't find out about this," he muttered as he picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello?"

He blinked in surprise at how on edge and hopeful the woman sounded. "Hello," he said slowly. "This is James Rockford. I just got in and my dad gave me your message." He knew he was talking to Lisa; he recognized her voice after listening to her at the hearing.

A sigh of relief. "Oh good. Well, Mr. Rockford, Dutch isn't terribly pleased that I'm calling you, but I finally convinced him it was the right thing."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? The . . . right thing?"

"The truth of the matter is, well, we realize you don't make a very good spy, but your record as a private investigator seems to be ace. And Mr. Rockford, I want to hire you to find out who's trying to kill my husband!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Jim was floored by Lisa Ingram's announcement. For a moment he just sat there, stunned and appalled.

"Hello? Mr. Rockford, are you still there?"

Jim shook himself back to the present. "Yeah, I'm still here, but I don't get why you're calling me about something like this. I'm no friend of your husband's. And I'm already feeling pretty sour about having to come out here for the hearing after I was told my testimony wouldn't be needed."

"Well, you're not one of Dutch's favorite people, either, Mr. Rockford," Lisa retorted. "But you're already familiar with the case. And from what I've heard about you, you're fair and loyal to your clients. That's what we need."

"And not uh, someone who'd set you up for a fall, like your loving husband does to so many people," Jim said sarcastically.

"Look." Lisa sounded putout, but there was also a tinge of pleading in her voice. "Alright, so Dutch has made his living organizing lots of deals that are, well, less than legal. Everyone knows that. But he didn't kill anyone!"

"Well, forgive me, Mrs. Ingram, but of course you'd think so," Jim returned. "It's obvious that you love your husband. Although I have to admit I honestly don't know why. How can you trust a man like that?"

"He's always been loyal to me," Lisa said angrily. "Mr. Rockford, all I'm asking for is for you to hear us out before making the decision not to help us."

"I think I heard Dutch's defense in court," Jim said. "He thinks someone took his-slash-my gun while he was knocked cold."

"Someone did!"

"Probably another of his satisfied customers," Jim said. "And it was probably yet another one that took that potshot at him today."

"What about how some of his men turned against him?" Lisa pressed. "They did far more than what they were required by law. They voluntarily went to the district attorney and made up lies about Dutch!"

"Okay, yeah, that's weird," Jim said. "_If_ it was really lies they were telling. But Mrs. Ingram, has your husband considered that maybe it's the Hawaiian Mafia that's after him? The Kamodo Brothers were part of it, even while they were working for him. And if the Mafia's responsible, I don't want to get mixed up in it. I've tangled with more than my share of Mafia boys."

"He's considered it," Lisa said. "Maybe it is them. But Dutch doesn't know their secrets! And if they were angry with him over a deal that fell apart, they could have done something to him long ago."

"Maybe they think he knows something he doesn't," Jim said. "Mrs. Ingram, I'm sorry about what happened to your husband today. But I'm not interested in taking his case or in doing anything to help him. You're right that I try to be fair and loyal to my clients. And I just don't think I could be loyal to someone who'd drop me in a millisecond if he realized it would be better for him if he did."

Silence. "Is that your final answer then?"

"Yes," Jim insisted. "I'm sure you can find help that's just as good elsewhere."

"Alright. And if you find out Dutch has been killed in the meantime, I hope you'll sleep well!" The phone disconnected, loudly. Jim pulled the receiver away from his ear with a wince.

"So you're not gonna help her?"

Jim looked up with a start at Rocky's voice. "Dad, the guy she wants me to help is a mercenary," he protested. "I've gotten into a lot of trouble because of him. I still don't know that he didn't try to frame me for a murder he committed. But what I do know is that he can't be trusted from here to the bathroom doorknob. Why would I want to help someone like that?"

"I don't suppose you would," Rocky agreed. "But you always seem to help that Angel Martin when he comes around. And he sure can't be trusted."

Jim sighed in exasperation. "Most of the time, I wish I hadn't helped him," he said. "It's bad enough always feeling like I have to get Angel out of his messes. The last thing I want is to deliberately plow into one of someone else's. Besides." He stood abruptly. "We're supposed to be trying to salvage a vacation out of this trip."

"You're right, Son," Rocky nodded. "And I've been looking forward to that."

"But you think I should help those people," Jim frowned.

"I didn't say that," Rocky said. "You're free to make your own decisions." He hesitated. "I just thought the girl sounded awfully sad when she called and I had to tell her you weren't in yet."

Jim already had that sinking feeling in his stomach. Somehow he knew that he was going to wind up on the Ingrams' doorstep that night, even if only to "hear them out". And somehow he knew it would end up turning into more than just "hearing them out".

Still, he tried to fight against fate. "Dad, there's any number of perfectly good private eyes based right here on the island," he said. "They can go hire one of them."

"Seems they want you instead," Rocky mused. "Or at least Mrs. Ingram does."

"That's another thing," Jim pounced. "Her husband thinks I'm a jarhead. I'm sure _he_ doesn't want me looking into this."

"Well," Rocky said, "you could take the case to prove to him that you know what you're doing."

"I _don't_ know what I'm doing!" Jim exclaimed. "I've never been in such a mixed-up case as I was when I met Ingram before. The last thing I want is to go through that again. I'd probably get myself killed and maybe you too." He headed for the door. "Now, what did you want to see today, Dad? Maybe we can work in at least some of the sites while it's still light."

Rocky trailed after him. "I made a list," he said, admittedly hopeful in spite of his concerns about the Ingrams.

"Great," Jim said. "Read it to me while we go downstairs."

He tried to concentrate on the list as they headed for the elevator, but it was proving difficult on several levels. He had been soured on Hawaii after all of his troubles there. To him, it wasn't a paradise at all. He had very little interest in touring the place, but he wanted to make his father happy.

Then there was this strange case that had popped up, the case that Rocky seemed to be trying to steer Jim towards even though he had been hoping for a nice vacation. Rocky was too soft-hearted for his own good.

The problem was, so was Jim.

After they were through seeing the sites, he was going to be visiting one more, on his own.

xxxx

"I told you Rockford wouldn't have any interest in our problems."

Lisa turned to look at Dutch, who was sitting in one of their wicker chairs and looking both annoyed and exasperated. The bandage on his left cheek stood out in the light.

"I know you told me," she said as she went to his side. "But I had to try. We don't know whom we can even trust down here! I'd put more faith in him than any of the detectives around here."

Dutch took her wrist and pulled her onto his lap. "I'll investigate myself," he said. "I trust myself, which is more than I can say about any of my men right now."

She stiffened. "Dutch, you can't! You'll get yourself killed." She reached for his hand and turned it over, running her fingers over his palm. "You've always left the dirty work to your men. You're not a fighter." She brushed the blond bangs away from his eyes. "You couldn't even take one punch from Rockford. That's how you got into this bloody mess in the first place."

"And that's the bloke you want to have look out for me," Dutch remarked. "Tell me something, Love. Would you like it better if I _was_ a fighter?"

Lisa gave him a putout look. "Then you wouldn't be Dutch." She kissed him and rested her head against his shoulder. "I love you just the way you are. The only problem is, someone's trying to kill you just the way you are. And you can't possibly fight them off all by yourself."

"I'm not by myself; I've got you." Dutch spoke smoothly, brushing Lisa's long, dark hair away from her face. "You know a little of that Japanese martial art, after all."

"Karate," Lisa mumbled. She smirked a bit. "You don't feel embarrassed to have a wife who can fight when you can't?"

Dutch smirked too. "No." He leaned down and kissed her. "Actually, I'm rather proud of my record of not fighting."

Lisa smiled, fondly. "You're an idiot."

"But I'm still alive," Dutch pointed out. "You probably would have been a widow years ago if I was a real scrapper like my men."

Lisa fell silent. That only brought back to mind the horrible truth.

"I could have been one today," she said quietly.

Dutch sobered, holding her close. "It'll be alright, Love." He wanted to believe that. Part of him did.

It was just that at the moment, he didn't know how it would come to pass.

xxxx

The hotel suite was pleasantly furnished and sized to be comfortable for at least two people. Lou looked around in approval as he and Ginger were left alone with their luggage.

"This is a nice place," he proclaimed. He wandered ahead a bit, examining the living room area and the bedroom before also peering into the bathroom.

Ginger nodded, thoughtfully. He liked only the best and he intended to have it. After a childhood of poverty, he had determined to never sink back into that miserable state again. That was how he had ended up orchestrating jewel robberies. Now that he and Lou were going relatively straight, he missed the stimulation of the thefts but was quite satisfied with the money they were making at the company that had hired them back in spite of their felonies. They did good enough work that they had both been promoted recently, resulting in larger paychecks. Ginger was definitely pleased.

He snapped to attention at the sound of added voices. "Are you turning on the telly?" he grunted, coming to the bedroom doorway.

Lou was standing in front of the set, staring at the screen. "Ginger, look at this guy," he gasped. "He really does look like you!"

"And I thought I was the only one," Ginger deadpanned. He sauntered into the bedroom and stared for a moment at the image of a confidently smirking Dutch Ingram. ". . . I suppose there is a slight resemblance."

"Slight?! Ginger, you're letting your vanity get ahead of you. This guy could be your twin! He's even British, too." Lou shook his head. "This is just weird."

"You and your cousin Sylvester bear a certain resemblance as well," Ginger said. "They say everyone has a double."

"Yeah, but at least Syl and me _are_ cousins," Lou retorted. "Resemblance among family members makes sense. Looking like some random guy off the street . . . now that _doesn't _make sense!"

Ginger shrugged. "Well, as long as we stay away from his part of the island, there shouldn't be any uncomfortable misunderstandings concerning the chaps who are trying to . . ."

The bullet tearing across the screen, followed by the screaming, horrified people, startled Ginger into silence. He and Lou both stared at the pandemonium ensuing outside the courthouse.

"_And this was the scene less than two hours ago,"_ the anchorwoman intoned. _"A mysterious sniper opened fire on Dutch Ingram and then proceeded to elude the governor's elite 5-O taskforce. He is still at large."_

"You hear that?!" Lou exclaimed. "Ginger, that guy could be anywhere! And if he just happens to get a good look at you . . ."

"He might make a fatal mistake," Ginger finished with a frown. "Alright, there is a danger of that, I'll grant you. But we can't lock ourselves in our room and forgo this meeting. It's important."

"Yeah, I know it is," Lou frowned. "But maybe we'd better stay here until it's time for it. If he sees you, Buddy, he could take a shot at you right off the bat! He probably wouldn't wait to try to find out more; he wouldn't think he had any reason to."

"It depends on how efficient he is, I suppose," Ginger said. "If he didn't recognize you from his prior information, perhaps he would take the time to do a bit of research."

"It's not worth taking a chance." Lou began to pace the room in agitation before stopping near the phone. "Hey, maybe I'll call this 5-O and see if they have any leads yet."

Ginger shrugged. "Go ahead. Although it will likely result in them wanting to come down here and speak with us. They might think _you're_ the sniper, checking to see if they're getting close to capturing you."

Lou paused. "You're right." He grabbed the receiver. "But I'll be happy to let them in on everything. Maybe they'll give you some protection or something."

"Perhaps." Ginger went and laid on one of the beds, spreading his trenchcoat over himself like a blanket as he listened to Lou pecking out the buttons on the phone.

Lou glanced to him. "I thought you'd complain about that," he remarked.

Ginger shrugged. "If it will make you feel better, I don't have any particular objection."

Lou smiled a bit, but he had the feeling that was not Ginger's only reason. Deep down, even if he wouldn't admit it, he was probably worried too.

And that only made Lou worry more.

xxxx

It was after dinner when a half-hearted knock came at the Ingrams' door. Both Dutch and Lisa looked up in a bit of surprise as well as apprehension.

"I'm not expecting anyone," Lisa said. "Are you, Dutch?"

"No." Dutch stood, crossing to the window and cautiously peering out through the curtain. He stiffened. "It's Rockford!"

Lisa stared. "Are you sure?"

"Of course." Dutch moved to the door and unlocked and opened it. "Well, Spunky, we'd given up on your coming," he grinned in greeting.

Jim sighed. "So did I. I don't even know that I think you didn't do it. I think you'd do just about anything to protect your little investments. But I figured I could come down here and just hear if you have anything interesting to say for yourself."

"Well, come on in and we'll talk about it," Dutch said, holding the door open wider.

Jim stepped into the entryway. "You're pretty chipper, considering you really don't even want me in on this any more than I _want_ to be in on it," he remarked.

Dutch shrugged and locked the door. "Well, Lisa wants you, and after all, she _is_ my better half." He smiled. "I figure on trusting her judgment. At least a little ways, anyway."

"I'm just here to _talk,_" Jim emphasized. "I didn't say I'd help out."

"Of course, Spunky, of course." Dutch patted him on the shoulder and headed for the living room. Sighing, Jim followed.

Lisa met them in the doorway. "Mr. Rockford!" she smiled. "You've had a change of heart."

"I just came to hear what you've got," Jim said. "I figured you must have something more than what you brought out in court."

"That's right, Love, in case the hearing went on longer or even made it to trial," Dutch said. "We had to save some ammunition for then, after all."

Jim shook his head. He would never cease to be weirded out by Dutch's choice of nicknames for him.

Ignoring Jim's expression, Dutch went to a desk and unlocked the drawer. He pulled it out, extracting a large manila envelope. "This is it." He handed it to Jim. "Go ahead—sit down. Look it over."

Jim started to open the flap as he walked to the couch. As he lowered himself into the cushions, he pulled out the contents. For the most part it was a collection of photographs, with several typed sheets of paper and a cassette tape thrown into the mix. Setting those on the coffee table, he focused on the pictures.

"Who are these clowns?" he frowned. The images of several people talking, with some in loud Hawaiian shirts and others in fancy suits, meant very little to him.

Dutch and Lisa sat on either side of him. "Well, see this one here, this shows some of my supposedly loyal lackeys having a cozy little chat with the representatives from the Vietnamese government," Dutch said, tapping the top picture.

"Isn't that what they were supposed to do?" Jim sighed.

"Well, I was supposed to be present on the scene, see?" Dutch said.

"And you weren't," Jim deduced.

"I was, in a manner of speaking." Dutch tapped the corner of the picture. "See that bit of white there? That's my trousers. I'm having a little induced kip while they're gabbin' away."

"Ohh. That was when I punched your lights out." Jim frowned at the picture. "They sure don't seem too concerned what happens to you. Who was taking the picture?"

"One of the blokes what woke me up after they left," Dutch said. "He snapped the picture because he thought somethin' seemed off."

Jim went through the rest of the pictures. They showed the same people talking in various locations. The final shot showed a suspiciously bulky envelope passing from the Vietnamese to Dutch's men.

"And you figure this is what?" Jim asked. "A payoff for making sure you get cut out of their deal altogether?"

"Something like that," Dutch nodded. "Either by framing me or killing me. Or both."

Jim set the photographs down and picked up the tape. "And this?"

"I recorded that," Lisa said. "One of Dutch's men was talking on the phone, practically confessing to being part of a conspiracy to murder him." She got up and retrieved a cassette player and brought it back. Slipping the tape inside, she pressed Play.

"_I understand the deal,"_ the voice was saying. _"I know what I'm supposed to do. But what if he suspects? . . . Hey, he's not that easy to knock off. He's not a fighter, but he knows things. If he finds out about this other deal going on behind his back . . ."_

"Then the other person disconnected." Lisa stopped the tape and folded her arms. "I confronted him, but of course he bloomin' denied that he meant what it sounded like."

"And now he's gone missing," Dutch said. "The prosecutor was trying to put that one on me, too."

"Oh, you mean saying that you'd knocked him off because you thought he was going to knock you off?" Jim frowned. "I didn't hear anything like that in court. And you said that you hadn't introduced any of this stuff yet."

"The hearing went on for a day or so before they sent for you, Spunky," Dutch said. "We didn't intro any of this stuff officially, but during a meeting between my solicitor and the D.A., the D.A. mentioned this chap couldn't be found for questioning and we played the tape for him. Tapes aren't generally admissible as court evidence, see, since they're just recorded voices that can't be cross-examined."

"Uh huh." Jim frowned.

"And that's when he accused Dutch of murdering Devon," Lisa said. "The nerve of him! You see, don't you, Mr. Rockford? My Dutch is the victim in all this madness, but he's the one being blamed!"

"He could be," Jim agreed. "Or you could've cooked up all of this just for my and the district attorney's benefit."

He picked up the sheets of paper. "These are just a bunch of names. Are these the people you think might be involved?"

"The ones at the top of the list are the ones from the photographs," Dutch said. "That one's Devon, the one on the tape." He indicated one of the men in the top picture. "But I thought I should make a list of everybody else who might have had a hand in things. Right now we don't know that we can trust anyone."

"You must have listed everybody you've ever made a crooked deal with," Jim objected in disbelief.

"These are mostly just lackeys, past and present," Dutch said. "Including the ones who were singing to the D.A. And a few of the blokes I've been dealing with currently."

Jim leafed through the pages. "A few?! The Colonel was right that you've been double and triple-dealing with just about every country under the sun!"

Dutch shrugged. "It's a living."

Lisa watched Jim. "Well, what do you think, Mr. Rockford?" she asked, still hopeful.

Jim stood, still holding the papers. "I said I'd hear what you had to say. I didn't say I'd take the case."

Lisa's eyes filled with discouragement. "You won't?"

"I don't know. I'd like to talk with some of the other people involved first." Jim headed for the door. "I'll look these over some more and see what I can find out about them."

"Will that be costing your normal fee, then, Spunky?" Dutch wondered.

Jim paused. "Not until I know if you've got a case," he said. "But if I find out you've been wasting my time, Dutchy-boy, I might just end up charging you double the normal fee."

Lisa scowled when he left. "He's perfectly unpleasant," she declared. "Maybe I made a mistake in sending for him."

But Dutch leaned back, thoughtful. "Oh, I don't know about that, Love," he mused. "He knows how valuable one's time is. We might just get along at that."

"He might not even take the case," Lisa protested.

"That's only if he decides there isn't one," Dutch said, drawing Lisa close to him. "And I think he's got enough of an open mind that he'll find the truth instead. You must have thought the same thing, or you wouldn't have sent for him."

Lisa smiled, settling into his embrace. "True."

Dutch kissed her. "As far as I'm concerned, we don't have a bleedin' thing to worry about."


End file.
